in the beginning
by thistleclaw13
Summary: Oneshot! My version of how the Atlanta survivors met up and formed a camp. Told from a Daryl, Merle and slightly Glenn point of view. rated T for language, slight racism (not my personal views) and violence (well what did you expect, it is a zombie story). description sucks - so, possibly, does the story - it's my first attempt at a fanfiction :)


The news had given him the odd snippet of information, reports of violence - random attacks on civilians - rioting on the streets. But since when was that anything new? The world had always been like that for Daryl Dixon. Full of rage and violence and hate. So when things like this started showing up on his TV he simply changed the channel - not that he watched TV very often anyway. He was usually out tracking, hunting, doing odd jobs for some money to keep his brother Merle and himself going. So, naturally, he had no idea what was going on when he was attacked while out hunting one afternoon.

****

"Holy Shit!" Daryl yelled as the man lunged for him, snarling like an animal. There was a deep gouge running across the man's face and a gaping hole in his stomach that exposed some of his vital organs. His crossbow out of reach, Daryl pulled his knife.  
"I'm warnin' you..." he said, but the man took no notice, lunging again, teeth snapping wildly for Daryl's arm. He sent a sharp kick to the mans face and saw him stumble back, falling into a large branch which impaled him with a sharp squelch. No pain registered on his... no... it's face. This thing wasn't human. Daryl wasn't sure if it was even alive.  
He grabbed his bow and headed away from the squirming thing, still trying to take a chunk out of him. he made his way home, being sure not to be heard by anyone or anything.

It was almost dark by y the time he made it home. "Merle?" he called. The door to the small run-down cabin they shared was locked, an unusual occurrence ever since their pa' had drunk himself to a none-to-early grave. There had been no reason to lock it. Daryl thought back to the thing in the woods. No reason until now.

"You bit'?" came his brother's gruff voice. "They say if you're bit' you turn"  
"I aint' bit' Merle - had a close call in the woods though. Some... thing. It attacked me, seemed awfully bitey to me."  
"Get in - quick" the door opened and Daryl was pulled in. Merle explained the thing's that had been shown on television. The virus - that's what they called it. How it was spread through bites and scratches. How it seemed to bring you back from the dead, change you into something else. Something not human. The fact they'd been told to evacuate to Atlanta. "Fuckin' stupid if ya ask me," he had commented, "Jus' means the meat's all in the same place."  
"Yeah? Well no one asked ya'" his brother had said, "safety in numbers, idiot. We need to get away, we can throw their asses to the cannibal masses." Daryl had shrugged at that and they had gathered up what supplies they could find. A tent, an axe, some knives, two guns, a few boxes of ammo they had lying around and some tinned food - not to mention Daryl's crossbow and extra arrows. They had thrown their things into the back of Daryl's shabby blue pickup along with some extra clothes and Merle's prized possession - his bike - and with that they headed towards Atlanta.

****

The first thing they came across was gridlock. The second was walkers (they had started to call the things that after Merle had referred to them dramatically as "the walking dead"). Lots of walkers. Daryl was at the wheel when they passed a horde of the things. He was ready to drive through and keep going when he spotted a car trapped in the centre of the horde. A car with someone in it. He looked at Merle. Merle looked at him.

"don' even think 'bout it baby brother. We got our asses to worry 'bout never mind some dumbass who got 'emself stuck in the middle of a horde."  
"What happened to safety in numbers? Besides, 'could always help to have someone who owes us a favour hangin' around." And with that Daryl took off into the horde, bodies slamming against the truck in all directions. He reversed over some more walkers, clearing a space in front of the car.

"I'm out of gas," came a voice from inside.  
"Well jump in the back then. An' hurry up 'bout it, I 'aint got all day," Daryl yelled, rolling over some walkers in-front of the car doors, the smell of blood thick in the air.  
An Asian kid - probably in his early 20's, Daryl guessed - leapt for the back of the truck, landing beside Merle's bike with a painful crash. "Hey! Watch the bike there, Jackie Chan!" Merle growled back at the kid. Daryl slammed his foot down on the gas and they sped away.

****

It had started to get dark so they had stopped, setting up camp in a small grove of trees. Luckily the kid had grabbed his rucksack- which contained food and water- before jumping into the truck, so Merle couldn't complain about him being a drain on resources, at least. That didn't stop him throwing every known racial slur at the kid before storming into the tent with some pills from his "goodie bag".

Daryl was quiet. He and the kid sat round the glowing fire, the only noise the crackling of the flames as they devoured the wood."Thanks," the kid said finally, breaking the veil of silence, "I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't turned up when you did. My name's Glen by the way." Glen extended a hand.  
"Daryl Dixon," the younger of the brothers nodded, ignoring the hand held out to him.  
"that was my brother, Merle," he gestured towards the tent.  
"So are you guy's headed to Atlanta? I was on my way there when you found me."  
"Yeah, if there's anything left. Bad idea if ya' ask me - everyone crammed into one city - it'll be like an all-you-can-eat Buffett to the walkers"  
"Walkers?"  
"'S what me an' Merle call those things. 's as good a name 's any"  
"Yeah. You don't mind if I stick around... You know - safety in numbers - at least, until you get there?" Glen looked nervously at the redneck. Daryl simply shrugged, "'Aint me ya gotta worry 'bout Ninja boy - Merle's gunna be yer problem."  
"Well... thanks, I guess - and I'm Korean."  
"Whatever - I'm takin' first watch. Sleep while you can kid"

****

It was bright the next morning, the heat coming down in waves. Glen was seated in the back of the truck, Daryl was driving and Merle was slouched over in the passenger seat. They drove for hours, keeping to the quiet country roads. They found abandoned cars and siphoned off gas from their tanks then quickly drove on. Daryl knew something was wrong. Very wrong. They set up camp in the mountains above Atlanta that night, near an abandoned quarry. Merle headed for the tent with one of his remaining bottles of southern comfort while Daryl took first watch and Glen sat by the fire.

That was when they found out what was wrong. Daryl looked over at the city scape stretching out in front of him, the traffic backed up for miles. Then he saw the planes and the helicopters. They flew straight overhead, towards the skyscrapers and tower blocks. And then they dropped something. He saw the flames first. Then he heard the explosions. Glen came up behind him and Merle appeared from the tent. All three watched silently as Atlanta burned.

****

Few people made it out of Atlanta alive. The first to show face were a cop - Shane - and his girlfriend Lori, along with a little boy named Carl. They showed up with another family consisting of a large man called Ed, his timid wife, Carol, and their daughter -Sophia. They set up camp along side the Dixon brothers thanks to an invitation from Glen.

Next came a mechanic named Jim and a woman named Jacqui followed by a Spanish-looking family - the Morales. Then an old man named Dale turned up with Two blond sisters - Andrea and Amy - tagging along in his RV. A black guy who called himself T-dog showed up a few weeks later. As time went on more and more people turned up and the camp expanded.

As this happened the Dixon brothers were pushed further and further to the side, which suited Daryl just fine. He'd go out hunting, bring back food; the camp would eat and he'd stay away from all of them. Sure there was the odd scuffle, or the few times he'd had to drag Merle away from a hot-headed Shane - but other than that nothing interesting happened.

****

One morning he woke up to find Merle and the Cop at each other's throats. Again.  
"An' how d'ya think they're gunna protect 'emselves without someone who knows how'ta handle a gun?"  
"And you think we'd be safer with you?" one of the sisters - Andrea, Daryl thought - joined in.  
"Damn right i do sweetlips. You got any reason to think otherwise?" His brother's voice was malicious.  
"Fine, mabe we would be better off if he came" Glen spoke, "I mean what's the worst that could happen" Glen was immediately shot dirty looks from T-Dog, Andrea and Shane.  
"Fine - go if you want, but I swear if anyone dies because of you - it'll be me you deal with" Shane glared at Merle then stormed of, deliberately shouldering Daryl on the way past.  
"Dumb-ass," Daryl mumbled, just loud enough for the cop to hear.  
"Merle, 'm goin' huntin' - bring us back somethin' good fur when y'all get back" Merle nodded in acknowledgement as Daryl shouldered his crossbow. "See ya soon baby brother." he replied with a smile, "make sure ya catch us somethin' more than them scrawny squirrels you' been bringin'. How 'bout venison"

Daryl waved to him as he walked off into the trees - determined to find the fattest deer in the woods. He'd make his big brother proud.


End file.
